The old gentleman looked with more heed and it made Gilbert lower his eyes blushing, for the interest had tenderness in it.
"Continue to study botany, which leads as a flowery path to medicine. Paris has free schools, and I suppose your folks will supply your maintenance."
"I have no relations, but I can earn my living at some trade."
"Yes, Rousseau says in his 'Emile,' that every one should learn a trade even though he were a prince's son."
"I have not read that book, but I have heard Baron Taverney mock at the maxim, and pretend grief at not having made his son a joiner. Instead, he made him a soldier, so that he will dismember instead of joining."
"Yes, these nobles bring their sons up to kill and not to nourish. When revolution comes, they will be forced to beg their bread abroad or sell their sword to the foreigners, which is more shameful. But you are not noble, and you have a craft?"
"No, I have a horror for rough toil; but give me a study and see how I will wear out night and day in my tasks."
"You have been to school, if not to college?"
"I know but to read and write," said Gilbert, shaking his head. "My mother taught me to read, for seeing me slight in physique, she said, 'You will never be a good workman, but must try to be priest or scholar. Learn to read, Gilbert, and you will not have to split wood, guide the plow or hew stone.' Unhappily my mother died before I could more than read, so I taught myself writing. First I traced letters on sand with a sharp stick till I found that the letters used in writing were not those of print, which I was copying. Hence I hope to meet some one who will need my pen, a blind man who will need my eyes, or a dumby who needs my tongue."